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Northern Japan

What a day. In an effort to totally avoid paying for hotels we have worked out an elaborate system of only taking night trains, where we can sleep as we travel.

Today that landed us in Aomori, a small city in Northern Japan. After spending two hours researching things to do there, I had found only one possibility: eat apples. The city is known for having good apples, and nothing else whatsoever.

With 14 hours before our next train to Sapporo, we had to find something else to do. To fuel our brainstorming we found a little trendy Italian restaurant called Piccolo. Even one-street towns in Japan have restaurants with beautiful interior design. It's important here. We lucked out - they use high quality ingredients, make their own sauces, and use extra virgin olive oil.

Post #21 - What I've been up to lately...

On Notes Too Frank

Dear Reader,

The last time I wrote seems like a long time ago, even though it was only two days (I think?). It seems like it's been much longer, and I think part of that goes to the fact that I've been busy having fun all week. Really though, the past two days have been filled with a lot of adventure, deep conversation, and creative power. I guess I'll spell them out to you.

I left Calvin's place in Hattiesburg early in the morning to meet my good friend, Kori, 30 miles west in Columbia, MS. I stuffed my bike into the trunk of her car, and we were off to Red Bluff – a beautiful canyon-looking sinkhole made by the collapsing clay soil between Highway 587 and the Pearl River. It took us about an hour to actually find the place, but once we got there I knew that it was worth the wait. It's hard to believe that a place like Red Bluff could exist in Mississippi.

Hours spent in the hot sun passed by without a blink as we trekked the trails and played in the creek. We made pottery with the vibrantly colored clay abundant along the creek. I never knew the possibilities in colors of clay; purple, deep red, yellow, greenish blue, and white all in this small unknown bluff, which we dubbed “Heaven on Earth”. Barefoot, we followed the creek all the way down to were it meets the Pearl River. At that moment, with my feet six inches into the soil where the creek current yielded to the greater current of a larger stream and the crackly clay on my face drying as I stared into the Sun (I know I'm going to need glasses), I never felt more unified with nature.

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